Best laid plans

This morning dawned on me when I was ready to start my speed training again. Through out the weekend I had visualized a fast run on a specific course. My injuries were sufficiently healed and I was ready to test my legs. These particular runs are exhausting, but satisfying. I usually finish them feeling as if I have pushed my limits and proved I can perform above my expectations. Man, was I ready.

During my initial warm-up mile nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. No pulling muscles. No aches or back twinges. All systems were a go.

And then I hear a jangling noise behind me that startles me enough to turn and look. Behind me is a loose dog, a gorgeous Siberian Husky, with her eyes trained on me. Gaaaa.

I knew I couldn’t outrun her, so I ease my pace and gage whether or not she has plans to mess with me. She comes right up behind me and then darts across the street. I am looking around for an owner. She has a collar and tags and looks amazingly healthy, so I know she belongs to someone.

No one else is on the street. Just me and the lost dog.

At this point of my run I am ready to shift into speed running. But I am watching the husky and she is running from yard to yard and crossing the street often enough that I have to wave and warn traffic so she won’t get hit. I get a glare from one women driving slowly like the dog is mine and why the heck isn’t she on a leash. I want to yell, “Not mine!”

Coincidentally, a new dog shelter has been built right by my house and the dog and I are about two tenths of a mile from it. Because the pooch seems to be trailing me and at one point actually waits for me to catch up, I know that I could never live with myself if I don’t get her to safety. We are getting very near a busy thoroughfare and no telling what would happen then.

I run towards the shelter, making sure she stays with me. Once I am off the road and into the field ajacent to the shelter. I call for her and cautiously kneel to greet her. She comes right to me. I grab her collar and she happily follows.

The field is muddy and I am cursing the mess on my shoes, especially after she spies another dog and tromps all over the tops of my shoe trying to free herself from my kung-fu grip.

The shelter is closed but I can see the lights on so I bang on every window and door they have as I make trudge through my mud while walking the perimeter trying to find a live body to help us.

Finally, a disgruntled employee yells at me that they are closed and to go around front. Once there, we get into a bit of an argument about how this dog is A STRAY and they are A SHELTER, closed or not. I convince him I am not taking the dog home, nor am I not abandoning my own pet. I sign a waiver to that effect and warily leave the happy pooch with him.

Once out of the building I look at the state of my shoes. My much anticipated run has been interrupted and my gorgeous new shoes are filthy.

I try to shrug the interruption off and get back to my training, replaying my conversation with the shelter dude over and over, all the while getting madder and madder until my run was finished. When I get home I plug in my splits and over-all time to discover that my times were faster than they have been in months!

During my prerun preparations, while I hadn’t visualized a stray dog, a visit to the shelter or the crabby employee that would tick me off, I had visualized faster times. I just had to take a detour to get there.